Oppression
by a mountain of gideon's scones
Summary: When, in 1525, Claire marries Shane, she expects things to be very different to what they are. Just what role does Myrnin play in her life? ShaneClaireMyrnin, AU, set in Tudor England.
1. Beginnings

Ok, I promised that I'd write a **Clyrnin AU** sometime, and this is the first part of it; this chapter is predominatly the lead-up to the Clyrnin part, so I'm ever so sorry for that, but if you want a decent story, you need this, right?

As for my writing in general, I've had very little time in recent weeks to write, and on Tuesday, I made a spurr of the moment decision to apply to Oxford, so I've got extra tests to do for that soon...so yes, that's basically why I've not written a lot recently!

Oh, and I've taken some liberties with **Shane's** character in this story, but, underneath, I've tried to get him as near to what I see him in the books as.

* * *

_March 1525_

"Miss, your mother would like a word."

The servant's words come from behind Claire, and she turns slowly to see Henry, her mother's messenger boy, standing in the door to her private rooms, his hands behind his back.

"I don't suppose that she happens to have passed on her reasoning for why she wants to interrupt my afternoon, has she?" she shoots back waspishly, knowing in the back of her mind what her mother wants to talk to her about; she just doesn't want to admit it. "Or does she just feel the need to interrupt my learning so that she can inform me that she has a new fabric for her dress for the festivities with the king, and she wants my opinion on it?"

Henry doesn't comment, as usual; he merely waits by the door for Claire to stand up and walk with him down the winding hallways to her mother's rooms, the walls lined with the darkest of woods and the most vibrant of materials—and it still makes Claire sick. She hates the house and how obvious it is that her family have money—the Danvers are one of the richest families in England, and they don't half show it—because even though she's grown up here, she knows what it's like on the other side. And if she's honest, she would rather live in a modest home with a modest income than another house like this, because this isn't a home in Claire's opinion: it's a show house.

They move swiftly towards her mother's preferred room during the day, Claire thinking in her mind about the book she had been given by her friend, Elizabeth; it's about science and the theories of what their bodies are like—wild, rash, _heretical_ ideas, in the Pope's eyes, but Claire doesn't care. It fascinates her more than sewing or talking with other girls her age does, fascinates her to the point that her mother threatens to forbid her from reading another book, and even makes her consider slipping into the lower town, where she knows a scientist lives, in order to bribe him to teach her how to work his equipment.

"Claire!" her mother says sharply, and Claire jumps slightly, realising that she's managed to arrive at her mother's door and enter the room without even being present in her mind; the thoughts of reading another of Vesalius's discoveries about the human body managed to distract her from whatever horror her mother has for her today.

"Yes, Mother?" she inquires politely, taking a seat on the chaise lounge facing the older version of herself. Claire's mother is her spitting image, albeit with wrinkles and a slightly fuller figure, and Claire knows that if she grows old to look like this, she'll be considered _splendid_—just as all the men at court continue to view her mother as, whenever they make the trip to the king's court.

"Were you daydreaming again?" she asks Claire, yet doesn't wait for an answer; instead, she picks up a scroll and unwinds it, her eyes flicking over it. "This is a letter from Lord Collins, the prospective suitor I informed you about weeks ago."

"Is there a relevance to you informing me of this _now_, Mother, or is it merely so that you could distract me from the rather more enjoyable things I was doing?" Claire replies, her tone slightly more insolent than usual, but she doesn't drop eye contact with her mother after speaking.

After a pause that seems too long to be normal, yet slightly too short to make the mood tense, Claire's mother smiles. "I wanted to inform you, Claire, that Mr Collins shall be arriving here tomorrow morning, and before he does, I want to ensure that every one of the books about your little science interests are gone from your library. He does not need to know that you have such…_interests_, not until you are married."

Unable to help herself, Claire stands up, her skirts rustling around her, and it's with a Herculean effort that she manages to resist shouting at her mother; it wouldn't be proper, after all, and she is nought but a _lady_, is she? "If that is what you desire, to remove every part of my personality in order for me to marry someone who I most likely will share no common ground with—how old even _is_ he?—then so be it. You will make your daughter unhappy and she will resent you, but if that makes you certain that he will want to marry me, then do what you please." With this, Claire takes her leave from her mother's rooms, storming down and out into the grounds.

Having emerged into the grounds, Claire begins to stomp around her usual route that she uses to calm down—ninety five percent of the time used after a conversation with her mother—muttering to herself about how ridiculous it is that her mother wants to remove such an integral part of her life, just to ensure that a man they've never met will think that she's nothing more than a normal seventeen year old. He won't care about her brain, her interests, the fact that she doesn't want to grow up and have her only worries be which colour napkins to use with the most exquisite tablecloth they own, as her mothers seem to be…and that worries Claire. If he doesn't know what to expect, he isn't going to ever let her, is he?

She frets and rants her worries to herself as she walks, the bottom of her dress becoming lathered in the mud that adorns the grounds in the spring, but she barely notices as she comes to her conclusion: she will allow her mother to remove her books (bar the ones that she manages to smuggle away as literature fit for a woman to read) and she won't make a judgement on this man before she meets him. The illustrious Shane Collins has never made an appearance at court when she has; there is a chance that they could be happy together—if he asks her to marry him.

So she shall reserve her judgement. Claire just doesn't believe that the chance of this man being what she wants is particularly high at all…

_~x~_

Three days later, and Claire finds herself waiting in the drawing room closest to the front door of the house, the house's expected visitor, Lord Collins, due in approximately ten minutes. Even though she promised herself that she wouldn't be nervous, butterflies are flying around her stomach, and only careful recital of things such as the order of bones in the body from her skull down to her baby toes keeps her from going crazy, or admitting to her mother how she feels.

Her mother continues to mutter about the state of Claire's hair, how her vacant expression (due to her method of keeping calm) is just going to make her look like a mentally redundant person, and oh, _how_ she wishes that she had had the gardener pick the roses today, rather than yesterday, to prevent the slight wilt that had occurred overnight—absolutely nothing that interests Claire.

Just when it's getting too much for Claire to handle—she'll snap at her mother soon, she knows she will—the door opens, and they both stand up at once, their eyes focused on those entering the room.

At the front is her father, but just behind him is the man she presumes to be Lord Collins—and he takes her breath away. Whilst she was expecting someone more than about a decade older than her, he looks her age almost, maybe just into his third decade of life, and he's…more handsome than she ever dared to expect him to be.

"Good morning," he says, sweeping into a bow before Claire and her mother, and they both respond as they are expected to: by curtseying to their guest. "How are you, this fine day?"

Claire's mother doesn't speak, and so it's left to Claire to respond. "I am good, thank you, Lord Collins, and yourself?"

He smiles as he takes a step closer to her, yet remaining the respectable distance of almost five metres away, and Claire feels her heart begin to race faster and faster. "I am particularly well, now that I have had the honour of making your acquaintance, Miss Danvers. I trust that we will have the opportunity to spend time together, over the duration of my stay with your parents?"

She nods this time, deigning not to speak, because as he flashes her an even wider smile, she feels herself begin to almost faint; she's never felt like this with a man before, never felt as though she wants to do anything he wants, and yet to tell him everything she's ever felt, at the same time—it's not just friendship. She's spent approximately two minutes in his company, and she thinks that she's already falling in love with him.

It's ridiculous that she could have done this in such a short time span, and so she deliberately takes a step back from her prospective husband, running through the bones in her arm in order to gather her thoughts back into a logical order, one that won't betray how she thinks that he's the most handsome man that she's ever met.

"I shall see you at dinner; for now, I must go and take a walk around the garden," she says, a smile gracing her lips, and as she curtsies to him, she sees the murderous glint in her mother's eyes; she evidently isn't happy at Claire's actions.

She doesn't care, though. This is her life, not her mother's, and anyway, she needs the time away from the set up of preparing herself for a life of marriage and children (potentially) with Shane Collins. But as she reaches the door, someone has a different idea.

"I would really rather like to see the grounds," Shane—she feels confident enough in her own mind now to call him that, rather than his formal title, because it doesn't seem to fit someone so young—says, and without Claire doing anything, her heart leaps. "I wouldn't suppose you would mind having another accompany you on your walk?" he asks, and as Claire turns around, she already knows that she would take him anyway, even though her mother will force her to take him.

"Certainly," she replies with a smile, taking a step out of the door, yet still facing her parents and the others in the room. "We shall be back before lunchtime, Mother; there will be no need to panic."

And with this, she walks down towards the front door, her guest catching up as they reach the doors, and it's with a smile that Claire accepts Shane's arm, already feeling as though she's known him for her entire life.

**.**

"You're awfully young to be someone with such power in the country," she says to Shane as they near the end of their walk around the gardens. The bottom of her dress is covered in mud, as it always is, but she knows that today, her mother won't moan about how much effort and time it takes their servants to wash it—it's been muckied for a good cause, apparently.

They've moved onto the topic of Shane now, after Claire explained away her family's history, and he's been rather cagey thus far—but now she's mentioned his title, he laughs. "Ah yes, well, that would be due to the fact that my father _did_ own the title, until he was killed three years ago, along with my mother and younger sibling. I now own the entire estate, and am therefore one of the King's Lords of England."

Claire immediately puts a hand to her mouth at the mention of the dead members of his family, and immediately apologies. "I'm extremely sorry for mentioning it—please forget that I did."

Shane stops and shakes his head, turning to face Claire. "I'd rather you knew than that you continually wondered whether I possessed great skills that I do not, and therefore was granted the Lordship for that," he says, his grip on her arm now moving slowly so that he can take her hand—and Claire doesn't mind. "For I am a man of few talents, Miss Danvers, and something I think will help me to shine is a beautiful, brilliant wife…and, if I may be so bold as to comment so early in our courtship—if that is indeed what we are entering into—I believe I may have already found the one."

Somehow, Claire manages to remain rather aloof and coy, studying Shane's face at the same time as reciting different organs of the body, and she smiles in the same manner. "Why yes, I do believe that this is the beginning of a courtship between ourselves," she says in response, fluttering her eyelashes. "But that doesn't mean that you can just skip out the race and decide we're going to marry…you do understand that, I am sure?"

He smiles back at her, beginning to walk back towards the house, and for the briefest second, Claire is disappointed; she half thought that he was going to kiss her or something of the sort—but evidently not. They've known one another for only an hour or two—it is far too fast, of course it is…though she's still disappointed.

She's scared of her own feelings now; only this morning, she was certain that she wouldn't love him, that she was being forced into this, but the general feeling she has now is that she _wants_ Shane Collins, she wants to marry him and to make sure that they're together for a long, long time. He's beautiful, and from what she can tell about him, he's funny, and kind too—the things that she's always looked for in those she associates herself with.

Just before they return to the house, under the shade of one of the old oak trees, Shane stops, and Claire stops alongside him, confused as to why he would want to rest when they're so close to the house, until his hand moves up her arm once again. His fingers trace her shoulder and Claire smiles, presuming what's going to happen next—and it does.

Shane's lips press down on hers softly, her back against the tree trunk, and it's more than anything she could have ever imagined for her first kiss; it's beautiful, magical, perfect—all the positive adjectives in the world combined couldn't explain it adequately.

When they break apart, Claire's smiling, wondering how their relationship can get any better than it already is—and they've got so much longer to even court, given the brevity of their time together thus far—because he's perfect for her, she's certain…she just needs to broach the subject of science. But that can wait for another day; they've got the rest of their lives together, she's sure.

(And she's glad that they have.)

_~x~_

The weeks pass, and they're spent doing almost the same thing every day; Claire and Shane get the chance to talk to one another in the mornings, though mainly with another in the room, and the afternoons are spent with either Shane sitting with her father, or the two of them heading into the local town in order to take a walk around, or to purchase a new item. When they realise that they require no escort on these trips, save the driver, the duo decide to frequent Claire's nearest civilisation almost every day, taking their time as they pass through the streets, in no hurry to return to the pressures that surround them in the manor house.

They kiss more and more as the weeks go by, sometimes even with another in the room, and yet as they grow closer, almost to the point that they know everything about the other, Claire begins to think that their compatibility was based on the impression he made on her in those first few moments. His charm, his beauty, his ability to win her heart without even trying…they could possibly have been the reason that she swooned almost immediately.

Thinking about it, in the few hours of the day that she doesn't have either Shane or her mother around, Claire begins to compile a list of things that they have in common: they both enjoy riding, discussion and, though it makes her blush to admit it, engaging in kissing one another. That's it; she doesn't enjoy hunting (though admittedly, that is a _man's_ sport) and he doesn't understand her love for reading—when she happened to mention that learning is something that means a great deal to her, he seemed to roll his eyes and move the subject onto something else. And she hasn't even dared mentioning science, let alone explaining her passion for it, for if he cannot understand her desire to learn Latin, why would he understand her wanting to learn the mechanics of what makes everything as it is?

He wouldn't. That's something that scares Claire, because this image of herself that he's seeing—it's not true. She's missing the greatest part of her life, missing the thing that completes her, because her mother thinks that to inform Shane of her love for anything other than him and doing 'feminine things' would cause him to run—and it probably would. Claire can't say that she knows for definite that he would stay, despite them being completely different, so for now, it's easier to pretend that they're almost the same, and that their differences will only make for more things to talk about.

It's been three weeks though, and every day, every kiss, has brought with it another thought of doubt, another _I don't want to do this_, running through her head, though she's tried to expel them numerous times. As she reminds herself every time the words _science_ and _not Shane_ appear in her mind, she reminds herself that her parents want this for her, and they have her best interests at heart. They want this, and so she'll go through with it—as she does feel _something_ for him, after all. It's not been long; once their marriage has occurred and they've known one another in a different manner, she's sure that the spark will return that was there the first few days, and she'll remain completely, irrevocably in love with Shane Collins for the rest of her life.

More than that, _he_ wants it. She can tell that he does; whenever she walks past, whenever they spend time together, his eyes are never off her, and she can read his expression easily. He isn't guarded around her, the way he can be with others, and even when they're not completely alone, Claire feels that Shane is comfortable enough to share with her things that other people don't know.

She knows that he isn't entirely comfortable with being a Lord, because it means that everyone expects him to know what to do, and he doesn't want that, he doesn't want responsibility. England is a very confused place at the minute, according to Shane, and Claire pretends not to have followed every piece of correspondence that her father has received about it, instead allowing Shane to tell her what he knows. She knows that this holiday is what has made his year, the near lack of work he's had to do over the past month leaving him relaxed and able to enjoy time with her—she knows that he loves her, because how could he _not_, when he's murmuring unintelligible things against her skin after their lips break apart?

It's obvious in his eyes, obvious in every word that he says, and even her mother's noticing. "I wouldn't be surprised if he asked your father for his permission to marry you tomorrow!" her mother exclaims as soon as Shane bids them a good night and returns to his rooms. "Oh, Claire, you are doing exactly as I asked—and without your science and silly books!"

Claire rolls her eyes, not bothering to mention to her mother that she's been reading her secret books over and over again every night when she retires to her bedchamber, because what purpose would it serve? The duration of Shane's visit has proven to Claire that she has no real say in what goes on, and also that it's best not to antagonise if possible; if keeping quiet about her illicit reading means that her mother remains happy, then that will be fine. Whenever she's married, Claire can always get the books back—she _will_. There is no doubt about it that whenever she leaves this house, all of her possessions are leaving with her.

"I shall see you in the morning, Mother," Claire says politely, leaving the room without another word and heading back to her own room.

Little does she know that on the other side of the manor house, her father is giving permission to Shane to ask for her hand in marriage.

_~x~_

They're walking through the grounds the following morning, Claire's arm around Shane's, and underneath the tree where they first kissed, he stops. "Why are we stopping?" she inquires, not thinking of even a kiss—they've shared enough on this walk alone, and even though she still enjoys them, they don't bring the same passion they once did.

He surprises her then, by dropping down to one knee in front of her, and taking her left hand. "Claire Danvers, I have known you for but a few weeks, yet I already believe you to be the one for me," he says quietly, and Claire feels her heart break: he does love her, he does, she can hear it in his voice. "Please do me the honour of accepting my proposal of marriage, and become my wife."

The hesitation Claire has is microscopic; she knew before he ever proposed that she would be expected to accept, and all she's done is appear to have feelings for Shane—which, in the first few days, she did have. How could she turn down a proposal that seems to stem from _love_, something so few marriages ever does? She may not love him, at least not yet, but he loves her, and she thinks that even if she had the choice not to marry him or not, she would probably do so anyway, just in order to leave his heart intact.

"Yes," she whispers, the word not even necessary—why wouldn't she marry him? As Shane stands up, she feels a flash of anger at the fact that he _knew_ she would marry him—even if not for love, but because he's wealthy and will be able to do great things for her family; even if they didn't love one another, she would be accepting anyway. And that hurts her a little, makes her feel a little dirty, because they all preach morality and 'making the right decision', but when you look at marriage, just how few of them are matches that came about solely for love? Not many, Claire bets, but before she can consider debating this in her mind, Shane's kissing her, and his elation is spreading into her—and like on those first days, she feels as though she could be absolutely, one hundred percent in love with him. All she wants is him.

"We're going to be happy together," he tells her as they walk back up the path to the manor house to officially inform the house that most likely already knows that Shane was proposing today.

"I know," is all Claire can manage in response, wrapping her arm around Shane's as they approach her home. All she wants is to be happy, to feel nothing but happiness for the rest of her life.

And she'll try her absolute best to ensure that this occurs—just honestly, she doesn't think it's viable.

_~x~_

Within four weeks of the wedding, she's beginning to think that she has made a mistake.

Their wedding was beautiful, she can't deny it; even though she's never been the most girly of girls, Claire felt that she could never have had a more perfect day to celebrate the moving on from her parents' home to that of her new family. Their vows were quiet and yet she knew that Shane meant every word; whether she did or not, she to this day still can't tell, but she knew that she sounded convincing.

After the wedding night, everything seemed to spring back into the focus that she felt she had with Shane in the first days of their courtship; he shined brighter than anything else in the world, even more than science, and it was as though nothing but him mattered—she wanted to please him, to be with him, to be close to him as much as was socially acceptable.

Now, though, it's beginning to wear off, and no longer does she want to spend every minute around him, giving him what he wants, telling him how much she loves him (she's decided that she _does_ love him, she's just not sure how much at the minute) because that doesn't interest her—neither does merely sitting in the garden, as he expects her to do. He's returning to his daily business, whatever that may be, and she has nought that interests her enough to sustain her for an afternoon.

Her books are still on their way over from her parents' home, and she's desperate for something to read, some new scientific discovery that she can absorb into her, as though she didn't ever _not_ know it…but that's impossible. She doesn't feel confident enough to ask Shane to buy her the books, particularly as he flashed her a look of annoyance when she told him she was bringing her personal library of educational books with her, so she has two options: to sit around the house all afternoon, until she can be distracted by sitting down to eat dinner, or to go and discover the local town.

These are her only choices, and she realises that the first one will drive her so completely into needing Shane that the independence of her youth will be lost; there will be nothing for her to do save for looking for Shane and desiring him, and that isn't something that she wants. Claire has always loved the chance to be free, to run through the fields and disappear for hours on end and not be worried about, because she knows how to get home. She doesn't want to be reliant on another, not both economically and socially, and that's what makes her mind up: she's going to head down towards the town half a mile away.

Having made her decision, she swiftly moves to her chambers, allowing one of her ladies to aid her with the removal of her finer dress, and to put on one more suited for walking the short distance; she doesn't want to use one of the grand carriages, because then it would feel too formal, and anyway, she wants the anonymity factor in the town. Using one of the Lord's carriages would only mark her out to be Lady Collins, and at least for today, she wants the chance to be nobody. She wants to enter the town, perhaps make a small purchase or two, and to return without facing the annoyance of being extremely polite to the populace there.

Before she leaves, she heads down the hall to Shane's study, where she knocks on the door softly, hearing the words "come in" before she opens it.

"Hello, darling!" he says with a smile, standing up and approaching his wife, pressing a hand on her shoulder. "Is there something I have forgotten to do? Or an appointment we made that I have marked down on the wrong date, for you seem to be wearing walking clothes?"

She shakes her head slowly, a smile on her lips. It's hard to explain her feelings, given that she's had so many highs with Shane throughout their short time together, but the chance for her to be independent once more is intoxicating, something that she needs—she can't be only Shane Collins' wife.

"No, my love, I am merely taking a trip down to the town," she tells him honestly, her own hand moving to clasp one of his. "I feel the need for a walk in the fresh air to think through my thoughts in peace, so I considered it a good idea to combine getting to know the local town and doing this at the same time, no?"

Shane nods slowly, his eyes on Claire, and then he smiles. "Of course, that is certainly a good idea—you need something to do, after all." There's the slightest hint of bitterness in his tone, and Claire attributes that to an inference towards her science books but she overlooks it, as she has always been taught to do. "I hope that you enjoy the scenery, it is truly beautiful. If you are not back by dinnertime, would you like me to send George, just on the off chance that you may become lost?" he asks, sounding concerned for her, and Claire nods slowly.

"That would be most appreciated," she replies, her voice seeming oddly stiff and formal with her husband, someone who, only three days ago, she was murmuring her 'love' for at every opportunity she had. "Thank you for understanding my need to…do something. I shall see you this evening," she continues, unsure how to phrase things, and Shane laughs.

"Oh, you do make me smile so, my Claire," he tells her, taking one of her hands and pulling her into him, pressing their lips together. "I hope that you enjoy your trip and do not spend all of the money we have!" he laughs, and releases her.

She doesn't say anything as she moves towards the door, merely turns back to see him staring after her as she leaves the room, and realises that whilst she's wavering on her feelings for _him_, he hasn't stopped loving her—and she doubts he ever will.

As she walks down towards the village, her mind is a mixture of scientific equations and guilt that she's with him, and yet still doubting her feelings—she's told him she loves him enough, so why can't she believe this? Why does she always have to focus on the negatives of their relationship, remember _every_ second that they're almost polar opposites? Claire knows that if he understood science, or at least understood her _need_ to understand science, then she would never be trying to analyse her feelings to see where her heart truly lies. They would be perfect.

But he doesn't, so that's what's happening: everything that she now calls her life is being called into question, because _he_ can't understand the thing that makes her whole. He can't understand it, and he won't even try to, and that's the worst part; he won't even _attempt_ to read one of the books that she has. If he at least read it, if he tried to understand what enthrals her so, then she wouldn't mind that he hates it—but he doesn't, he won't, and Claire doesn't think that she can live with that.

Well, she'll have to—they're married. She would never wish death on anyone, but his dying would be the only way for her to leave this marriage. Claire's sure that she can survive a loveless marriage, even if it means that they end up leading almost completely separate lives once the novelty of their being wed wears off Shane—if it ever does.

Looking up, Claire realises that she's covered more ground than she originally thought: she's already approaching the first signs of civilisation, with little cottages dotted along the road, and just in the distance, Claire thinks that she can just about see the town there. It isn't big, certainly nothing like what she's used to, but that should make it more exciting, and harder for her to get lost.

That's what she's hoping, at least.

_~x~_

Within forty five minutes, Claire's finished with selecting enough purchases that, if she had taken her time, would be enough to constitute a few hours in the town. So now, she has time spare in order to wander around, and hopefully find a solution in her head to the war between love she has for science and the guilt she has with regards to her feelings towards Shane. That's the aim, at least, and if she doesn't complete it within about three or so hours, she will have to return to Shane, confused and unsure about what her mindset is.

Claire begins to walk away from the main shopping street of the town, heading down one of the side streets which leads to the meadows she _thinks_; she's basing this theory on the direction of the roads and where she happened to see large expanses of ground when she drove with Shane from the church to their new home, so she's happy to see that her thoughts have paid off: within a few more turns, she's at a large area of open ground.

There doesn't seem to be any clear ownership of the land, given that no crops seem to be sown, and it looks deserted (which makes no sense, due to its proximity to the town centre) so Claire begins to wander up and down, making random turns in the grass as she thinks and thinks, trying to clear everything from her mind and rearrange it into a logical order, one that means she knows what she's doing. Claire begins to put things into lists, into science versus Shane, and the science column is winning by far: she cannot stay with Shane and not even have her science! It's absurd to think that she ever could, given by how much of an outright majority it has over merely Shane…

It's at this point that Claire recalls that she has her delivery of books coming: she can have both! A relief removes itself from her mind, leaving behind only the burden as to whether or not she can ever come to love Shane, as she felt she did in the first days, but she can save that for another day—for today, she has her science, and that's all that matters.

Buoyed along by the thoughts of rereading one of her favourite books by Vesalius, Claire begins to make the walk back to the town's main street, and from there, home, but when she makes the turns she _thinks_ are right, in order to return there, she finds herself down a different street, one that she didn't see before. It's darker than the others, the walls seeming closer together, the bricks uncared for and their crevices filled with moss, and the feeling in the air is almost as though she's unwanted. Nobody is here, Claire notices, and the silence seems more…terrifying here, more as though she ought to be afraid of it. In the field, the silence helped her, was soothing almost—now, it seems as though it's the forewarning to being killed.

Yet she does what any other brave, yet slightly idiotic person does: she advances down the alleyway.

It makes sense to, in Claire's mind; alleyways generally lead to the back of more dense regions of the town—here, Claire presumes that that would indeed be the city centre—and so therefore, it makes sense to head down it…even if the hairs on the back of her neck are standing up.

Allowing herself a shiver, Claire begins to walk relatively quickly down the alleyway, the noise of her shoes clacking on the hard ground echoed through the walls. It's the only sound in the nearby vicinity, though as Claire moves further and further down the alleyway, the feeling that something isn't quite right growing more prominent with every step that she takes. She doesn't understand why a street could be so empty, with not even the sound of a woman cleaning to break the quietness, when it's the middle of the day; surely things ought to be midway through being completed, children should be playing in the streets, people ought to be on their way home from the shops…but no, there's not one sign of life down the street.

It's at this point that Claire's nose picks up the scent of magnesium burning—she recognises the smell because once, when she had one of her more extrovert and radical governesses, she had the opportunity to take part in some experiments—and she frowns; for what reason would there be the smell of _magnesium_ down a residential street? It isn't, as far as she's aware, regularly used in the home, its properties when burnt proving it to be not non useful, so the only explanation could be…a scientist lives down here.

Claire's pace picks up dramatically, the fear due to the silence wiping itself away from the forefront of her mind as she lifts her skirts and heads further down the street. As she does so, her eyes focus on the doors that appear sporadically, aiming to see if she can see even the slightest bit of life from behind it to warrant her opening the door and explaining away her curiosity. She does this for the entire length of the alleyway, realising as she reaches the final ten metres that it's a dead-end; she has one more door to check, and though the scent of the magnesium is certainly much stronger here, she can't confirm whether or not it is coming from here or not.

As she reaches the door, a noise sounds suddenly, startling her; it definitely came from behind the door, a sharp sound—one that she would normally associate with a servant banging on a piece of metal. But there is definitely life behind the half-shut door; Claire can see the glow from a candle, and, when she listens carefully, the muttering of someone—a scientist, she's certain of it.

Half-scared about actually meeting a scientist, and completely fearless because _he's a scientist_ (it won't be a woman, she's almost one hundred percent positive of this fact) Claire attempts to knock on the door, but merely pushes the door open with her action, revealing a cluttered workspace.

She believes they're called laboratories, where serious scientists work, and as she stands in the doorway, she's entranced by the state of the place before her: it's not at all logically ordered, with stacks of books and papers littering the relatively long and narrow room, and every available space seems to be covered with beakers and glass dishes, but it's beautiful. Merely metres in front of her is a bright light burning in the flames—magnesium, the chemical which almost caused her to go blind, due to the brightness of its flame—and Claire can't help herself as she takes a step forwards towards it, descending into the relative darkness of the laboratory without even thinking about its owner, or just where he is…

"Hello, there." A voice comes from the side of the fire, and Claire jumps slightly, her eyes averting themselves from the fire as he speaks, and towards the speaker. "I would recommend not looking directly into the flames, it…"

"Burns them and can damage your vision," she finishes automatically, unable to help herself as she does so. "Sorry, I just know…I had a bad experience with magnesium a few years ago, with my governess."

The man before her is strange, she thinks; whilst he looks like a regular gentleman of his mid-twenties (or so she presumes) with shoulder length hair, he's wearing a shirt that she doesn't recognise from the current style, and as she looks at him, looks into his eyes, she sees wisdom there that one so young ought not to possess. And yet he also looks amused at the mention of her bad experience, and doesn't seem particularly bothered about her disrupting his experiment.

"If the smell is a concern, I can naturally finish my experiment," he says, and Claire gets the impression that he thinks she is a homeowner in the area. "Though you seem remarkably well-informed about the elements for one so young…" he trails off, and Claire blushes ever so slightly, taking a step towards him as he speaks. He's paler than normal men, she notices, and then realises that she ought not to make presumptions about matters of this nature—it is not her place, after all.

"Oh no, no, I don't live down this street!" she clarifies immediately, reaching out to pick up some tongs from the bench next to the fire. It doesn't seem to be contained to a pile of wood, the fire; it's as though a metal pipe contains fire…but that's impossible. As she contemplates this, the man clears his throat and Claire jumps again, realising that she hasn't actually explained who she is. "I…I'm Claire. I like science—love it—and I was about to walk home when I smelled the magnesium…I was curious, I'm sorry."

She drops the tongs as she speaks, taking a step backwards again, and the man shakes his head. "Don't be sorry, I have never had another be so intrigued about the sciences to come and visit me. I am Myrnin, a master of the little science the world knows thus far, and of alchemy."

Claire gasps, unable to believe that the man—Myrnin—could have mastered something as complex and extraordinary as alchemy. "But…but that takes years to learn! How did you do it?"

He smiles, and as he does, Claire feels something stir inside of her, a warmth that she never realised she was missing. "I have had a long time of teaching—most of my life, in fact—and I had a brilliant tutor to guide me through," he explains, and Claire nods. "I…this may seem rather forward, Miss Claire, yet you are interested in the sciences, and I require an apprentice. If you happen to be free, would you like to learn from me, for me to pass on the knowledge my previous master gave to me?" even though Claire's only known him for mere minutes, she can tell that he is sincere in what he's saying to her: he wants her as an apprentice.

The first word that springs to mind, that Claire finds on her lips, is _yes_, yes she will be his apprentice—but just before she says it, she bites her lip. She's married; even though this is to _learn_, it wouldn't look right for her to be spending so much time with another man, in the town. More than that, she's Lady Collins; her role in life is to do charitable work, if she must, and that does not include indulging in hobbies and interests…she cannot do it.

"I'm sorry," she begins, her tone apologetic, because she feels bad for declining his offer—she wants to do it, she really, truly does. She's just honour-bound not to accept it. "I'm married, and it's not particularly appropriate, given my husband's position. If things ever change, certainly, and I…I'm sorry. I most certainly would want to learn from you."

He nods slowly, something changing in his eyes, and the room suddenly feels colder to Claire, even though she's standing beside the fire. "I understand. I hope you enjoy the rest of your existence, Miss Claire, as I most definitely will alongside science." As Myrnin speaks, his voice is the same as it was before, Claire thinks, but he turns away before he adds on, "I must now bid you farewell—I must conduct an experiment before nightfall."

She understands that this is her cue to leave, and as she does, she feels as though she _belongs_ in the laboratory; she wants one of her own, wants to be able to set things on fire and not care about the consequences, wants to be able to conduct investigations into matters that are, as yet, unsolved. She wants to do everything Myrnin evidently does, to learn everything she can from him, and it's only propriety that stops her.

As she walks down the alleyway and back to where she got lost, she realises that if she had followed the signs, she would have returned to the town's centre easily. But she had been too focused on science to notice them.

Perhaps that was a message that she cannot yet understand…

_~x~_

Upon returning home, Claire realises that the three wagons of her belongings from her childhood home must be here; she recognises one of the horses that are in the stable as she walks passed, and she's certain that this is finally the opportunity for her to read one of the books she's missed, oh so much! If not tonight, then she shall spend her entire morning tomorrow reading it, soaking in the words that the man, Myrnin, could teach her—yet he can't. It wouldn't be right, not now that she and Shane are married, so no matter _how_ much she knows she can learn from him, she won't do it. She wouldn't ever compromise her position for that…

"Hello, darling," Shane says as she enters her drawing room to find him standing there. "Did you enjoy your trip to the town?"

She smiles and nods as she moves across to him, allowing him to kiss her before they sit down on the chaise lounge next to one another. "Where are my belongings?" she asks, attempting not to sound too eager for the items that she has sent for.

Shane pulls a face and instinctively, Claire knows what he's about to say, knows that her dreams have been shattered…and that he has something to do with it. "I'm sorry, my dear, but there has been a terrible…occurrence. The wagon carrying your books came into difficulty on the journey, about halfway along, and had to stop on its journey. Word has gotten to us today that it was overcome by thieves, and almost all of your books have been destroyed. I'm sorry."

Somehow, Claire manages to make her face seem surprised, as though she hadn't just figured this out, and she nods slowly. "Well, I can always buy more books, can I not?" she manages to say with a smile, pretending not to notice the look that flits across Shane's face momentarily.

As he pulls her in for a hug, Claire knows that the only way for her to get to learn about science is to go to Myrnin, to learn from the alchemist. She may not know him very well—if, really, at all—but she's aware that if she wants to develop her understanding of science (and alchemy) then she needs to go to him, damning the consequences.

_~x~_

The following morning, as soon as Shane leaves for a three day trip to London, Claire leaves the manor house, pretending to go on a walk around the vast grounds. Taking refreshment with her, she hurries hastily towards the town.

Upon arrival, she makes her way towards the meadow she found yesterday, and then managed to retrace her steps to take her down the alleyway; once again, it's empty, the silence louder than anywhere else in the nearby vicinity, and Claire shudders involuntarily as she nears the end of the path—it's creepy, she can't lie.

Slowly, she raises her fist to knock at the half-open door, and ends up pushing it open, revealing the same haphazardly organised laboratory as before, with the same scruffy man standing in it.

"Hello, Claire," he says, sounding slightly surprised to see her, and she's shocked, too: how did he know it was her before he even turned around?

"I…I'm here to rescind my statement yesterday," she says firmly, taking a step into the laboratory. "I want you to teach me everything you can about the sciences, about alchemy, about what you can do in this laboratory. I want to know _everything_."

He raises an eyebrow and murmurs, "everything…how so very much like myself you are, my Claire," before nodding. "In that case, we must begin, young one. And I very much look forward to working with you."

As Claire shuts the door, she realises something: she doesn't regret this decision whatsoever, not even for Shane's sake.

* * *

**Please don't favourite or alert without reviewing.**

I will update as soon as I've written the next part, but please don't harrass me for it-it'll be up whenever I get the time to write it, honestly.

But it would very much be appreciated if you review.


	2. Changes

Ok, so, I just want to say that I'm really sorry for the delay on this chapter; I didn't start it until a couple of days back, and I'm sorry. The next part will be up in a more timely fashion, I hope.

Thanks for the reviews I got, though! This chapter's dedicated to Alice (felines) because she's the best, I love her and she deserves it.

* * *

"You do understand the instructions I have given you, do you not, little Claire?"

Claire rolls her eyes as she hears Myrnin's words, looking up from the powder mixture she's creating in order to flash her tutor a slightly sarcastic smile. "No, I have completely no idea, because this is the first time that I have ever done this particular experiment and therefore am taking completely wild guesses as to what I ought to be doing." She's being sarcastic, naturally, but she knows that Myrnin doesn't understand this particular way of being, and that in mere seconds, he will be asking—

"But, Claire, you have done this experiment many times now, almost every day since you first started to learn from me, so I do not understand why you are struggling," Myrnin says, his brow furrowing. "I was sure that you would be able to master this easily…"

Laughing, Claire continues to make the product Myrnin wants her to make, reaching around past him for some sodium carbonate. As per usual, regardless of the heat procured from the flame less than a metre away from him, his skin is cooler than the average person's, but Claire doesn't linger on this puzzle; Myrnin said it's because he spends so much time indoors, in the dark, so his body doesn't absorb the heat from the sun. She's not sure if she believes him, but she possesses no evidence to the contrary, so therefore for that reason, Myrnin's the truth teller.

"Myrnin, I'm not mentally redundant," Claire says quietly, smiling at the man who's teaching her the more complex things about science that books alone could never wholly explain. "I was merely making fun of you for being so obtuse; I was considering whether or not it would be wise to put the sodium chloride in before the potassium permanganate, for the last few times that I have completed the step in the opposite order, it almost caused the experiment to fail. That's all."

She can feel his eyes resting on her, waiting for her to explain her decision. "And you have decided…?" he presses when she remains silent, and Claire turns to show him the bottle in her hand: sodium chloride. "I am pleased that you have noticed the issue in the ordering of the chemicals; it has taken you time, as I expected it would, but you have nevertheless proven yourself to be a great chemist and, in the future, a brilliant scientist. Congratulations, Claire, you may now step away from the cauldron and never have to make this foul creation again."

Smiling widely, Claire does as he says, making sure that she sets down the salt on the opposite side to anything that it may react with before taking a step backwards. "So I never have to make that ever again?" she confirms, picking up the glass of water that she left on the side earlier and taking a sip. It's cool and refreshing on her parched throat, the dryness of the artificially created flame having caused her to feel as though sandpaper has lined the tube between her lungs and her mouth, and Claire finds herself drinking more deeply than she had originally intended to.

Coughing, she looks up at Myrnin, who seems completely unconcerned about the fact that his assistant is choking in front of him. "Aren't you going to ask if I'm alright?" she manages to say between bouts of coughing, slightly shocked at the man's lack of manners. All he does is stand and look at her, not even attempting to offer his assistance, and in the depths of her mind, Claire's glad about this; she's getting to be independent, after all, and it isn't as if she's going to die from a slight cough, is she?

Almost as though he's read her mind, Myrnin replies, saying, "it isn't as though you were in imminent danger, would you not agree?" Picking up a piece of chalk, he tosses it between his hands, always catching it. "If you appeared to have been in danger from the, ahem, water, I would have naturally come to your aid. Yet you did not need me, and therefore I saw no need to interrupt your coughing."

Throwing him a look, Claire takes a step back towards the table, unsure as to the source of her annoyance; only seconds ago, she was thinking about how _glad_ she was that he wasn't attempting to ask her if she was well when it was quite clear that she wasn't going to die…and now, now she's almost wanting Myrnin to be concerned about her. She wants him to show the concern Shane would have done, if this had occurred in his presence, wants to know that she means something to him other than being merely his assistant in the workplace…not that she will say this, naturally. What they have is a situation which could form a friendship—Claire most certainly hopes that it does—but, first and foremost, is something which aids Myrnin with his research and makes sure that she knows everything that she _can_ know about science. That's all she wants, after all, even more than to know that Myrnin has concern over her well-being.

"So, now that I've passed your test, what are you going to have me do?" Claire asks, keen to know just how her learning is going to develop. Normally after she brews this particular potion for want of a better word, she sits down with Myrnin, reading through one of the many leather-bound volumes that litter the laboratory, but she's hoping that today will be slightly different. After all, she's proven that she knows enough about the subject in order to be able to advance to more technically difficult levels of science, and that's what she's hoping that Myrnin will recognise.

His eyes dart to the clock that rests on the counter, and something almost imperceptible changes within his face. Claire knows what the answer will be. "Nothing today, young one," he says, taking a step backwards from where Claire stands. He picks up a book and begins to flick through it, taking as little care as he always does with his possessions. "Your Shane will wonder why you take so long to aid the old woman in the village every day; you must have some days on which you return home earlier than planned…unless, of course, you _tell_ him about this arrangement we have." His voice is light and hopeful, but Claire groans internally; she cannot tell Shane that she comes here to learn from Myrnin about a subject that most of the aristocracy despise. It's inappropriate enough that she comes to learn from a _man_ alone in the dark, let alone about a subject as taboo as science.

"Very well," Claire sighs. "Though tomorrow, if you force me to conduct that particular experiment again, I will have to hand in my notice as your assistant," she continues, a snort of laughter escaping her lips. "Goodbye, my friend, and enjoy your evening," are her parting words as she walks through the door from the laboratory, into the outside world.

She never realises when inside just how claustrophobic and dark it really is; because she's leaving earlier, the sun is even higher in the sky and it almost hurts her head as she walks down towards the main street, the feeling of freedom from the small building unusual given that she is walking through streets of tightly packed buildings. But Claire's happy; thanks to these visits of the past weeks, it's made living with Shane, knowing what he did to her books, bearable…and sometimes, Claire even thinks that it helps her to love him more. She does love Shane, she knows that, but it's not a deep and passionate love, one born more from necessity and continued closeness than a desire to love the other.

In the pocket of her dress are the notes that she made at the beginning of her session with Myrnin, tucked away underneath the handkerchief she always carries along with a small book of prayers; she always likes to carry it, even though she isn't the most religious of all the people in the country, because there's always a chance that she could need it when out.

(And it's a good explanation for her having something in her pockets, therefore disguising whatever she wants to hide.)

Walking along the country lane back to her home, Claire thinks through everything that she's learnt throughout the past three weeks; every day of the week, save for Sunday, she's visited Myrnin's laboratory and discovered so much about science that she didn't know before. Some things are as simple as the number of elements that currently have been discovered—though Myrnin feels that he has found another, though he can't prove it for some reason Claire doesn't yet know—and some are so complex that they disprove the limited level of learning she had prior to engaging in work with him. From now on, however, the complexity of what she can learn will increase to levels she's sure that she cannot even begin to comprehend at the current moment in time what she'll be able to do, even next week. Claire's certain that her learning curve will take a steep incline now that she's made this breakthrough, made her a worthy student to teach in Myrnin's eyes, because why would he hold back on teaching someone like _her_, now that he's made this judgement about her?

In the depths of her heart, she knows that soon, one day not that far in the future, she's going to have to give up her illicit lessons with Myrnin, going to have to leave science behind her for good; it will be too hard to disappear for hours on end when she has a child—something which she knows will happen in the coming months, that much is almost certain given her position and who she's married to—and that will mark the end of her career in science. Yet that only gives her more determination to learn absolutely everything she possibly can, because if science is a ticking clock, certainly going to end before she's had a chance to understand more than a smattering of the religion of science, she wants to know as much as she can before that final chime rings.

She's going to become the mistress of science, she knows it; the question is, will she have the time to do it?

_~x~_

"How was Mrs Humphries today?" Shane asks Claire as they sit at dinner, and she hesitates for a fraction of a second. It's not long enough for him to notice, not even as he stares at her, and she internally chastises herself for not instantly recognising what he meant with his words.

"She was quite well," is all she says in response, instead choosing to take a relatively large bite of her beef. "She is beginning to cope more with the loss of her child, though I fear that she will need my assistance for a good while longer before she is able to return to her ordinary life."

In order to be able to enter the town every day without raising suspicion from her husband, Claire pretends to assist a mother, who fairly recently lost her child in a mystery attack. It continues to befuddle the authorities as to how the child became so chalky white, as though they had no blood left in their body, and if Claire happened to be superstitious, she would cry out _vampire_, but she won't because she isn't. In her view, if science cannot explain it, then it must be God's work, though it could potentially be something that science is yet to determine. Her opinion is always unclouded by judgement or fear, and yet her curiosity in this case sparked such an interest that she decided to aid the woman. Every afternoon, she takes a basket of food and other stuffs to Mrs Humphries, just to say that she has been, and sometimes, she does stay for a little while longer—yet not normally. It's the cover story that she's been feeding Shane for three weeks now, and she knows that it can last long into the future; the woman in question is very mentally unstable at the loss of her child, and Claire knows that even with her assistance, the woman will never recover. It's a perfect reason for her to continue to visit her, because Shane's well aware of Claire's determination never to give up—it's what _'makes him love her even more_', and Claire doesn't really care what it makes him do so long as he doesn't bar her from leaving the house during the day.

Shane smiles as he reaches across the table for Claire's hand, something she allows him access to quite readily. "I am pleased to hear that; it is good that you have something worthwhile to occupy your time before we have our heir to this estate," he comments, and inside, Claire feels a flair of anger. The baby they will have is not just the heir to the estate and titles that Shane possesses; it is a living creature, something that they have the power to shape and mould, and she's determined that it will be raised as a proper individual, someone she will be proud to show to the world.

Yet she manages to make herself smile and look at Shane as though she loves him and only him, hearing herself say, "yes, I agree, it's better for me than merely sitting here and looking pretty; I want to make a difference."

(She pretends not to notice the grimace that passes over Shane's face as she says the final sentence.)

_~x~_

The time seems to fly by as her days are filled with Myrnin and science – even Sundays, the one day of the week she never visits, don't drag by as much as she expected they would; those hours Shane has to 'deal with business' are easily filled with reviewing her notes of the previous week. She doesn't need to, though, because even as the material becomes more and more challenging, Claire finds she can understand it perfectly. It makes her feel as though she's doing something though, and that's why she does it; the feeling she gets as she takes a sneaky peek at her notes whilst she does her sewing is divine.

"You're doing extremely well," Myrnin comments one day, six weeks after her learning really begins. "An apprentice I had when in Wales couldn't even manage the basics of alchemy, yet you've taken to it like a duck to water. I am most impressed, young Claire."

His comment startles Claire; she never knew he was in Wales. People she's spoken to report that he's lived here for six years, and that he rarely leaves his home—or, at least they never notice him leaving. The only indication of him having contact with another seems to be a mysterious blonde woman who appears every so often for short periods of time, but even knowledge about her is limited; the locals say that she appears in the dead of night and leaves at around the same time, never to be seen during the day. The only comment anyone has about her is the fact that she is extremely beautiful—and even that isn't confirmed. Then again, Claire supposes, she knows almost nothing about him; he knows her entire life story, almost, and she barely knows more than his name and information she's scrounged from other sources.

"You were in Wales?" Claire can't help but ask. "When? Why did you leave its idyllic greenery, the rolling mountains and the clear blue brooks…?" she trails off, an image of Wales in her mind. She's only ever visited once, and she's desperate to return in the future, though when that will be remains undetermined.

He smiles a small smile, his lips barely moving, and Claire understands somehow, that he didn't mean to tell her about his time in Wales; he slipped in whatever game he's playing, and all that does is make Claire ten times more determined to ensure that she discovers just what it is that he's hiding. "Can you not hear the accent, my dear apprentice?" he asks, and only then does Claire hear the lilting undertone of a Welsh man. "I was born there and lived in the country for a period of time, until I needed chemicals and equipment that the rural community could not offer, so I came here."

Claire can tell that he's leaving something out and for a minute, she wants to push it, but decides to change tact and try and discover something else that's spiked her curiosity. "How have you learnt so much and yet are so young?" she asks, setting down her quill on the bench as she leans forwards. He's so young, so truly handsome, that he takes her breath away when she looks at him from certain angles, and until she recalls that she's married and to have thoughts like this are almost infidelity.

There's a flash of something in those chocolate brown eyes which are usually so kind, and it scares Claire; it's barely there and then it's gone, but in that moment, Myrnin looks like a predator, someone who wants to hurt her. Then it's gone, but the kindness is forced; she can tell the difference between the way that his eyes usually light up and how they are now, and they're not the same. He's hiding something, and Claire wants to press it, she really does, but she knows that whatever answer he gives her now is the only answer she will get from him.

"I am merely someone with a brain that is much more developed than most people," he finally replies, looking away from Claire as he speaks. "It has allowed me to learn much faster and therefore left me at a stage far more advanced than most other people can manage…and who is saying that I am young? I may be scores of years older than you see me, Claire, I may very well be." There's something in his tone that's dark and fierce, almost daring her to continue asking questions, but she resists; this is a Myrnin she never wants to see again.

So, very deliberately, Claire turns her gaze back to the sheet in front of her. "So, if I magnify this, then it will give me the square root of that?" she asks him, already knowing the answer is yes but wanting to change the subject.

The change in Myrnin is enormous; he's back to the cheerful, friendly soul that she's grown to like—_love_?—and Claire's almost put at ease that this is how he really is. Still, part of her considers that there's more to Myrnin than meets the eye…and she's determined  
to discover just what it is.

_~x~_

Claire's scared.

She's not scared of anyone in particular, not fearful of a time of the year or a location, but of what she feels for people; as time ticks onwards and everything matures, she knows that she's doing something wrong. She doesn't love Shane, doesn't want to be with him even though she knows that he's probably the best husband she could have ever asked for (according to her mother, he doesn't even take a mistress when he's away, which is extremely rare) and that worries her. It's getting harder and harder for her to pretend to be as she was when they first married, and that shows that something's wrong; they've not even been married three months and she's already barely coping. How she's going to cope with children and being with Shane for the rest of her life, Claire honestly doesn't know.

More than that, her feelings in the laboratory are changing, and she can't tell whether it's merely because she wants someone to love, or whether she really _does_ want Myrnin, because it feels a little bit when she fell for Shane. She's gone from merely being friends with Myrnin to considering him as someone she could be with for eternity within weeks, and whilst that's longer than the entire hour it took her to 'fall for Shane', she feels that it's too quick.

Yet she also knows that she has so much in common with Myrnin; as she sits with him, learning about the theory of alchemy before she practises it (Myrnin says that whilst it's more boring, it's safer and he doesn't want her to be hurt, something which fuels her feelings even more) Claire notices his features so much more than she used to; his nose is very slightly crooked, as though it was broken when he was a small boy, and he has translucent scars on his neck as though he was slashed with a knife at some point. His fingers are long and supple, just as pale as the rest of his body, and those fleeting moments she catches him shirtless when one of the sleeves catch fire—which happens all the time, so she really ought to be used to seeing his chest—her breath catches in her throat.

And it's more than just his looks, the things they have in common are too numerous to count. They both adore science, could sit there and discuss it for the rest of eternity and never get bored; whilst they differ on some opinions, she feels that that sparks more interesting discussions than if they happened to share the same opinion on everything—and anyway, Claire isn't afraid to argue with Myrnin the way that she is with Shane. He's interested in literature, as is she; they both enjoy walks in the park (though admittedly, he doesn't mention when he goes out, and a cynical Claire thinks that it's mainly at night when he ventures out of his home) and something about the sense of humour Myrnin has reminds her of what she finds funny. It's drier than most people's, and both of them prefer a subtle sense of irony in their jokes than the obvious, mostly crude preference of so many members of court and society—inclusive of Shane.

He's everything she ever wanted her husband to be; it's just unfortunate that he isn't her husband, isn't it?

As she sits in the laboratory, working away at some problems that Myrnin has directed her to do, she gets distracted. Myrnin's working away in the corner with some metal, his face illuminated by the light emitted from the candle beside him, and she can't help but focus on the concentration that's evident on his face. She can't think of a word to describe him other than beautiful, even though there's the words _determined_ and _focused_ that would do the job adequately, also…but that's what he is.

_Beautiful_.

There's something about the delicateness of him that takes her breath away; she knows that he's muscular and strong, she's seen that in the way that he can lift huge pieces of equipment across the laboratory, but it doesn't seem possible given that he's so lean and wiry. His shirt ripples as he moves his arms, and through the thin, white material, Claire can see his chest, and she has to force her eyes back to his head, back to the black hair tied back in a bow, back to the determined crease between his eyebrows that proves to Claire that he's focused on what he's doing.

She knows in this moment that her love for him is infinite; there's no way that she can ever stop loving him, as she has done with Shane, because…because she just _knows_. It's already been longer than it took her to fall in and out of love with Shane, and that's a pretty strong indicator that perhaps, this love could be something that's real. It's based on something that's true and shared, rather than merely a 'good match' so that she can live comfortably for the rest of her life with a man who will treat her right, and whilst Claire can't say that she dislikes living with Shane, she knows that to be with Myrnin would be so, _so_ much more.

Yet she cannot have him, and that's the double-edged sword of love: she can love someone so dearly, and yet he can never be more than a secret to the rest of the world, because she's already married. He can only ever be a dirty, illegal secret that, if discovered, could destroy whatever dignity and reputation she's managed to build for herself over the past months. That's the hardest, most heart-breaking part of all, because love should conquer all, and yet in this situation, love is conquered by position and fear.

"Whatever is the matter, my Claire?"

Myrnin's voice startles Claire, and she blinks once, then twice to realise that Myrnin's gaze is on her, that he's been watching her watch him.

A blush rises in Claire's cheeks and she barely stops herself garbling out some sort of apology, because she isn't sorry that she's been looking at him—she _isn't_, because if she's honest, she wants nobody other than him, nobody other than the man who can teach her everything about science and be with her all along the way. Shane doesn't even know that she comes here, and she can tell that he doesn't really care what she does throughout the day, so long as it is respectable…and her love for science most certainly isn't.

"I…I…you were concentrating so intently that I…I was inspired," she murmurs quietly, not sure if he can hear, yet she knows he can. He knows everything, somehow, and can always hear her, no matter how far away in the laboratory she is. It should scare her, but in all honesty, she's rather amazed that he could pay so much attention to her.

(It's almost enough to give her the opinion that he feels the same about her, given how much he looks at her and makes her feel important all the time…but not quite.)

He stands up slowly and takes a step towards her, a smile on his lips that reaches his eyes, and it's one that makes her feel full of confidence, absolutely certain that they're close friends, if nothing more. He's never smiled at her like this before, though, and…and if she was someone who happened to have a lot of knowledge about relationships between men and women and what the signal are, she would be confident that his smile means that he loves her, too.

But she isn't, so she doesn't think that her interpretation is right; after all, just what does she know about love? She's married to someone she can't ever see herself loving after a brief crush on him, and that's the only relationship she's ever had. She's no expert on this, is she?

"You inspire me," is Myrnin's reply, and Claire takes a sharp intake of breath; she can't tell if he means what she thinks by that, or if she's reading too far into it. "It's because of you, Claire, that I seem to make so many more discoveries now…it's almost as though you've created a new drive in me to find things out, just so that I can dedicate them to you."

This, however, makes her mind up; he feels the same way. It's impossible, stupid and above all too quick, but Claire's certain that the way that she feels is true and real, and that Myrnin's feelings are mirrored. He wouldn't have said that if he didn't consider her more than an apprentice, would he?

Claire knows this is wrong, so absolutely wrong that she can't even put it into words; she's _married_, and yet the urge to do something, to press her lips to Myrnin's is too great. She doesn't know if she'll be able to resist, doesn't know if she can be the good girl who doesn't ever do anything wrong (even though she's been lying for weeks and weeks now about where she goes during the day) because this is all she wants. If she had to choose between wealth and Shane or science and Myrnin, she knows that the second one would be her choice every time, no matter what the situation. Even living in poverty would be better if it was with Myrnin.

She doesn't know how but one moment she's sat down, the next she's standing and taking a step towards Myrnin, her eyes focused on his face, reading every minute change in his expression. There's almost a hunger there; what for, she doesn't know, but she's certain that a similar sort of lust will be apparent in her eyes.

"Claire, I…" Myrnin begins, but before he can finish, she's closed the gap between them and is pressing her lips to his.

It's indescribable, the feeling that passes through Claire's body as their lips collide, something that she's never felt before, not even when she felt that she loved Shane. His hands wrap around her waist, pulling her closer to him, and hers wrap around his neck, the feeling of his cool skin brilliant against the feverish sensation that's beginning to creep over her. There's no way that Claire can consider doing anything but kiss Myrnin; every ounce of her concentration is focused on the man in front of her, and if she had her own choice, she'd never leave his side again.

Finally, however, common sense creeps back in, and Claire remembers.

She remembers Shane.

She remembers that she's _married_.

She remembers that this is wrong.

Horrified with herself more than anything else, Claire lets out a gasp and removes her arms from around Myrnin's neck, tugging backwards to get out of his grip. She can tell he's surprised and that's why he lets her go so easily, but she doesn't care why he lets her go, all she cares about is getting away, getting out of the laboratory and never going back.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand to try and get rid of the taste of Myrnin, (it doesn't work) Claire reaches over to grab her shawl, tripping over her skirts in her haste to get out of the laboratory, whilst Myrnin just stands there, not moving. All he does is look at her.

"This…that was a mistake," Claire snaps out, not meaning to bark out the words, she just…does. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…I love Shane, and I'm married to him for the rest of my life, Myrnin. I didn't mean to cause this…I'm sorry. You won't have to see me again."

With this, she turns towards the door and begins to climb the steps towards the street, and Claire gets the feeling that Myrnin's moving faster than she's ever seen him move before—inhumanely fast—but she doesn't turn around. If she turned around and saw him broken, tears streaming down his face as they are down hers, then she'd have to go back and apologise and kiss his tears from his face, and then she'll never be able to leave. Only because she doesn't know what it's like to be with Myrnin in an official relationship, is she able to leave. If she had been with him officially as well as Shane, she'd never do this, yet she hasn't, so she has to leave.

"Don't go," Myrnin calls after her as she begins to run down the street, and the noises that emit from the laboratory almost drag her back; there's clanging and shattering of glass and noises that don't sound human—sounds of suffering, of the heartache that she's caused by the selfish decision to kiss a man she can never have.

It's hard, but she manages to put his words out of her mind as she runs down through the town, ignoring the looks of confusion on people's faces as she passes them. Tears stream down her face, blurring and obscuring her vision, but she knows her way home; she's beat her way down this path numerous times over the past three months, and she could do it blindfolded if need be. Yet as she gets further away from him, Myrnin's words seem to call out louder in her head, screaming and yelling at her, merging into one in order to create a large mess of sound in her head that just makes her want to collapse to the ground and rock herself into a stupor to numb the pain.

But she fights on, managing to calm herself before she reaches her home, just so that Shane doesn't grow suspicious as to why she's been crying.

She'll never return to the laboratory, that much is certain.

_~x~_

That night, for the first time in twelve weeks, Myrnin goes on the hunt again—a hunt to kill.

* * *

Please don't favourite or alert without reviewing, thank you!


	3. Finale

I'm so sorry for the ridiculously long delay on this chapter; I've been so, so busy but I've finally had the chance to write it. Parts aren't as I envisioned (eg the penultimate scene) but I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Myrnin regrets his actions the next morning as he wakes up in his laboratory covered in blood, the remnants of his meal of the night before still lying on the floor; he immediately begins to clear up, fearing that Claire will be in the building within a few more minutes, until he remembers.

The broom in his hand drops to the floor with a clatter as he recalls what happened yesterday, what happened to cause him to give up his lack of hunting: he kissed Claire, she kissed him back, and then she left—forever. She told him that she's never going back, and he doesn't think that he can cope with this.

It seems quiet—too quiet for Myrnin's sensitive ears; Claire's been a constant noise during her time here, because those short hours she has departed his laboratory, he's been able to imagine her heartbeat, to recreate her standing behind the fire in his mind. Now, the heartbeat's gone forever (because he's not going to go into the town during the _day_, and she won't come here at night as there's no reason for someone in her position to do so) and it's only going to make him crave the hunt even more.

These past months, he's managed to go without blood for as long as his body has been able to cope, not wanting to take so much from the humans because of Claire, and even then, it's been sparing amounts of blood from each person, never enough for them to notice. They've never been harmed (permanently, at least), and if he thinks that they may have even a slight indication that something's happened to them, he uses his 'power' in order to wipe their memories. The short visits Amelie has made upon Saturday evenings, remaining until the Sunday, every week since Claire's arrival have reminded him that this isn't the way he's used to acting—she's been surprised every visit to realise that Claire is still alive, though Myrnin knows that Amelie does her best to hide that shock—and yet he's reverted back to his old way of life seamlessly.

But not quite—even now, he's wracked with guilt about what he did last night, about how he betrayed Claire's trust because she's trusted him with her_ life_, and there's nothing more she could trust him with. And yet he's a vampire, someone who ought never to be trusted with something so precious, particularly the life of someone as vibrant and brilliant as Claire…yet she's given him it for so long. And all he's done is sacrifice the trust she's unwittingly put in him; he doesn't know if he's ever going to regain it.

Sighing, Myrnin bends over to pick up the corpse from the floor, moving it into his old storage location for such things; he'll remove it tonight in the dead of night, when every single person in the town is asleep.

All he can hope is that Amelie will come soon, in order to alleviate the growing weight of loneliness that's already pressing upon his shoulders…

_~x~_

"Aren't you hungry?"

Shane's voice jerks Claire from her reverie, and she looks up from her plate to see Shane staring at her. It's only now that she realises she's been staring at her food for an immeasurable period of time, long enough for Shane to realise her attention is elsewhere.

"I…no," she says quietly, and as her eyes meet Shane's, she sees a glimmer of delight shoot through his. It takes a while for her to understand why; every woman in his family has lost their appetite when pregnant. It's something he told her last week, when she first started to give up on eating, and it's haunted her ever since because whilst he's getting more and more excited about a baby that doesn't exist (how _could_ she let herself get pregnant in this sort of situation?) she's unable to rid herself of a man she left behind.

She hasn't visited Myrnin in eight days now, and every single second has broken her apart a little bit more than before. Every time she looks at the clock and thinks, _I should be in the lab at the minute_, her heart feels as though it's a little closer to beating its last beat. All she wants is to be with Myrnin, to bury her head in science and never leave his side again…but she can't. She chose Shane over him, chose her marriage and what's _right_ over what she wants, because that's what she's been raised to do: please others and ensure that she acts respectably at all times. That's her purpose—that, and to produce a male heir.

Shane looks at her again and reaches across the table to take her hand. His eyes are kind, gentle, and each second that their eyes are locked together makes Claire want to run away from him even more—but she can't. Of course she can't. "Everything will be fine," he promises her, but each word feels as though he's stabbing her in the chest. "If you would like, I can summon the doctor from the town to see if you are well?" he asks, and as he speaks, Claire can hear the perking up of his voice, and just how much he wants this.

"If you feel that it's advisable, then yes," she agrees, barely restraining herself from sighing; she doesn't want this, not at all. "For the current time, I think I'll go for a walk in the garden. I'll see you at lunch."

With this, Claire walks out of the room, setting her napkin down on one of the tables as she does so, Shane saying nothing as she departs. She heads down the ridiculously long corridor to reach the main door, which is opened for her by one of the servants, before taking steps onto the slightly damp lawn. It sprawls out for acres around her, and for a few moments, Claire lifts her head to the sky and breathes in deeply. What she first thinks is dampness from the wind turns out to be tears, she soon discovers as she lifts her hand to her face; she's crying because she has no idea what she's doing and why she's still here when all she wants is to go to Myrnin and be with him.

At least, that's what she thinks she wants.

Whether she really does or not, she decides, can only be ascertained by staying away from him for a longer period of time, no matter how much it hurts.

_~x~_

"Old friend, why are you so upset?"

This question alerts Myrnin to his friend's arrival, and he turns to look at her with a sheepish expression. Every piece of glassware in his laboratory has been smashed beyond recognition, the majority of it fine dust upon the floor, and for a moment he forgets why.

"Amelie, you have returned to me!" he almost sings out, moving swiftly across the room to stand before the woman entering his home. "I have missed you so very greatly, I cannot begin to put into words how much I require your presence at the current moment—"

She cuts him off. "I know there are seven dead, and they have all died within the past eight days, Myrnin," Amelie says sharply, and Myrnin's sheepish gaze suddenly becomes more so. "This place has been a safe respite for you for a short while; why have you suddenly decided to threaten your cover and risk exposure? It makes no sense; you haven't killed—save for the one child—in years…why _now_?"

Myrnin sinks slowly to his knees, and reaches for Amelie's hand, which she gives him willingly. "I…I couldn't resist. The pain…it…I cannot function already, Amelie, and it has only been weeks since—" he cuts himself off as quickly as possible, but he knows that Amelie's razor sharp mind will have already connected the pieces of information and the unfamiliar scent to conclude…

"You have fallen in love." Amelie says it slowly, without anger or insult in her tone; she merely states it. "And not only with anyone, but with a human…one who has left you. Why did she leave you? Did she discover what you are; is our secret compromised?"

He shakes his head vigorously, lifting his head to look at Amelie, his eyes filling with tears. "No, no, she has no idea about what a…monster I am," he whispers. "She…she is married."

There's no need for him to say any more; Amelie's expression softens even further, and she uses her hand to pull Myrnin to his feet, resting her other hand on his shoulder in a act of condolence. "I am truly sorry, Myrnin," she murmurs. "It perhaps was not to be…why did you become involved with her anyway, if she is married? I have never known you to do such a thing before."

Myrnin makes an effort to wipe his eyes as he looks at Amelie, before responding. "I…we were not romantically involved…not until the very end, when we shared a kiss—and she left immediately afterwards," he tells Amelie, who nods in what he presumes to be an understanding manner. "I was teaching her science; she is one of the brightest people I have ever met, including myself though I hope you will pardon my boasting, and she wanted to learn more. Her husband has basically forbidden her to do such a thing…so I merely wanted to fulfil her wishes. I didn't mean to fall for her, I truly didn't…it was a mistake."

Amelie smiles ever so slightly, a smile laced with melancholy and regret. "It never happens how you desire it to, does it?" she says, her eyes filling with sadness. "It's never the intention to fall in love, particularly when the person has so many issues that love between you and them can never be feasible. But you must move on, Myrnin, and in a way which doesn't draw attention to…to what you are." Her voice becomes firmer now as she discusses their safety; this region is somewhere she has particularly liked for decades, but if they were known as what they are—vampires—then she would never be able to return. Folklore passed down through families in this neighbourhood is believed, and her face would be tied in with the story forever more.

He nods, reaching for Amelie's hand once more. "I…I understand. I cannot—I refuse to—leave without closure, however. I will remain here until something significant occurs in her life which could change anything ever happening, and when it happens, I shall return with you to London—or wherever you decide to move to. I will not leave your side again, not until we settle somewhere for the rest of eternity." Myrnin's promise is truthful, though he knows that there is a stubborn undertone that Amelie will be able to hear; he refuses to leave until he knows that Claire will never come to him again. In this situation, that proof would be a child, something which would rip his heart to pieces—but if it happens, it happens. And he will leave.

Amelie stares at Myrnin for a few, immeasurable moments, before slowly nodding her head. "I agree with this logic. There is always a chance that she may change her mind, and I do not want you to hurt forever because you don't know if she does or not. But you must be careful, Myrnin, you _must_ be." Her voice is urgent, worried almost, and Myrnin smiles a wry smile.

"I always am careful, my dear," he replies, noting the sudden change in his friend's expression. "Well, I am when I want to be. Now come, sit, you have had a long journey and I suppose you shall be returning tomorrow night."

_~x~_

Shane's out, the maids are in the other rooms cleaning and, for the first time in twenty hours, Claire is completely alone. The first thing she does is check that she _is_ alone—the servants here are too quiet, too scared to speak in her presence, so she never knows if they're lingering or not without looking—before slipping into her bedroom and removing a book from the bookcase. It's hollowed out inside, with many of her science notes stored inside of it, and Claire merely stares at the top piece of paper for almost a minute, the anticipation far too great for her to deal with. She's missed this, missed being able to read her notes about experiments _he_ made her do and what the conclusions she drew from them are. All she yearns for is to go back, to learn about science forever—or as long as forever can be for someone with a limited life span—and to see him, the man she could see herself growing old and grey with.

For almost thirty minutes, Claire reads through the pages of scrawled notes she made in _his_ laboratory—she cannot use his name, even in her mind, for to do that would be to allow the wall she's built around it to come tumbling down—until she decides that it's now too risky to continue to do it. So she slips the book back onto the shelf, a little happier now that she's revised everything she still can remember with crystal clear clarity, because it's science…and this science is better than none at all, isn't it?

(She thinks so anyway.)

(It doesn't stop her still wanting _him_, though.)

_~x~_

Amelie leaves the following evening, returning to her home in London and the man she currently feels slightly attracted to—how, Myrnin has never asked, though he partially would like to know now. He wants to know whether his love for Claire is fleeting, like Amelie's love for every man in her life has been, or whether it's a lasting love, one that will continue long into the lifespan of probably Claire's great-great grandchildren.

"Amelie," Myrnin begins cautiously as he fastens the clasp around her neck to secure her cloak to her body.

"Yes?" she questions, her eyes narrowing as she attempts to read his face. "What do you want to know about me now, my friend?"

"How deeply do you feel attracted to this John fellow?" he asks, coming out with it straight away; with matters of the heart, he has never been good at making his words flowery and disguising his point behind metaphors and fancy literary devices.

Amelie smiles slightly, lifting her hand to touch Myrnin's cheek softly before moving one of the curls lining his face so that she can see into both of his eyes. "I…not very much," she admits, and Myrnin feels a crushing pain that he doesn't quite understand. "However, I can see in your face that you love this girl very much, and _that_ is the sort of love I want to find. I want someone to love like you love this girl, and so I shall continue with my flings and dalliances with knights, and you shall…you shall be fine, Myrnin, for whatever happens is fate. It is destined to happen, and I shall be very surprised if she does not turn up at your door within weeks, begging you to understand why she acted the way she did."

Myrnin regrets Amelie making this promise the moment the words leave her lips, because it fills him with hope—hope that he knows is futile, almost certainly never going to be fulfilled. Yet it lifts him for the moment, and somehow he manages to plaster a smile upon his lips as he moves in to press a kiss to Amelie's cheek.

"You are right, I hope," he comments, squeezing Amelie's other hand. "I do hope that you enjoy yourself until our next meeting, Amelie. I shall miss you greatly, as I always do; when this lifespan is over, I feel that we ought to take a holiday somewhere exotic, perhaps find a spring where we can swim once more."

"I would very much like that," Amelie replies, removing herself from Myrnin's grasp. "But to return to London before sunrise, I must depart now. Be careful, Myrnin; I do not want you to lose yourself and all control you possess."

Before he can say another word, she's gone, flitting from the laboratory through the now open door into the night as silently as she arrived, mere days ago. As soon as she's gone, Myrnin feels the hope she filled him with falter, as though only Amelie's presence kept him whole…and he knows that before the morrow is out, he will have hunted.

He will have killed—again.

Because, in Myrnin's eyes, hope is something that only aims to destroy, not to build confidence; it can never be a good thing to have more than an ounce of hope.

Otherwise, you can be destroyed.

_~x~_

It takes another week before Claire crumbles.

Every day, she's read her notes, analysing everything until there is nothing left to analyse but the components of the paper she used to write her notes, and even that doesn't take too long to work out. She's bored, restless, and takes to walking around the garden, reciting lines of the periodic table in the hope that repetition will aid her in learning things to the point that they roll off her tongue without any prompting whatsoever.

Shane thinks that this is a good sign that she's pregnant, something he's even come out and directly said, and the doctor who visited seems to think that she's pregnant, too. Claire knows that she isn't, though; she's keeping quiet about what she knows has happened and definitely proves her lack of pregnancy, because it keeps Shane happy whilst she figures out what she wants from her life…and who she wants it with.

As she walks through the grass and trees, Claire's heart feels as though it's about to break into pieces as she makes her decision; does she go with _him_ for love, for science, for everything she's ever wanted…or, for propriety's sake, for doing what's right for her and her family, does she stay with Shane, as she has done for weeks now? She made the decision to come back here for _some_ reason; there must be something that draws her back here…but no. Claire thinks more and more about it, and she realises just how much she considers this home to be a prison; it's lavishly furnished, she's treated like a princess and she has everything she wants (besides science, of course) but it's still a prison. Now that she's 'pregnant', Shane doesn't seem to want her going out anywhere without him, and even then, the only place she seems to be able to get to without a fuss is church—and she doesn't even particularly believe in the ideologies of the church.

All she seems to feel nowadays is depressed; whereas before she would leap for joy and bound around with insatiable energy, nowadays she can barely gather the strength to move from one side of the room to the other. She doesn't want to do anything, doesn't want to go anywhere or interact with anyone other than the one man she has questions for. Even rereading the notes she made weeks ago cause her to think things through in a new way and consider theories in a slightly different manner, leaving her with questions which nobody can answer…nobody but a man who she cannot see. It's this knowledge that depresses her the most: the knowledge that she can have all the questions in the world, and yet never get them answered…because she has chosen to be loyal to Shane above everything.

But now…now she can't take it any more.

It's not just the questions; it's the aching yearn her heart has to see Myrnin again that has Claire waking up from the stupor this house has had her in. It's this desire to see him that has her walking swiftly from the far side of the orchard back to the house to change into appropriate gear to walk to the village in, as well as to inform Shane where she's going—to visit the old woman, to ensure that she is still relatively happy following her apparent 'acceptance' of her child's death—and within less than ten minutes, Claire's on her way to Myrnin. She's missed him more than she can put into words, and those final moments with Shane—he gave her a pound and told her to be careful—she knows will, hopefully, be the last she ever shares with him. It's a cruel, evil thing to do, to leave him without even telling him where she's going and why, but it's all she can do; it was a spur of the moment decision, the physical need to see Myrnin taking precedence over telling Shane that she loves someone more than him, and therefore her actions need to be equally spontaneous.

As Claire near sprints down the road towards the town, she recites possible ways to tell Myrnin how she feels in her mind, each one less appropriate and cheesier than the last.

Little does she know what she's going to find when she arrives in the laboratory.

_~x~_

As Claire approaches the street down which the laboratory lies, she falters in her progress; does she really want to do this? Her confidence breaks into pieces as she nears the end of the street, her feet clattering upon the cobbles, and for a moment, she considers running away. He doesn't know that she's here, doesn't know that she's merely twenty metres from his door; she could escape, run back to a boring but safe life with Shane without Myrnin ever knowing how she really feels. She couldn't tell him how she feels and then leave him again; that would be too mean. As of now, however, he doesn't know…so she could leave and just break her own heart in the process.

Her feet are moving her towards the door already, though, and as she nears the laboratory enough that she can see the cracks in the wooden door, she knows that it's too late. There's no way that she's going back.

Slowly, Claire pushes the door to, knowing that there's no point in knocking as Myrnin never answers the door. She's the only person who enters anyway, she thinks…or so she _thought_ anyway…

There's a woman's cloak on the side as she peeks in.

It takes a moment or two for Claire, still standing in the doorway to the laboratory, to allow her eyes to acclimatise to the darkness inside the building…but once she does, she regrets allowing herself to do it.

Her feet move her forwards of their own accord, down the steps and into the room with the huge, now apparently cracked wooden table in the middle, but her eyes are focused on the man to the right hand side of the table, with a woman in his arms…

…and his mouth at her throat.

"Myrnin?" Claire gasps quietly, not sure what she's seeing—one thing she knows for sure though, is that he doesn't care about her enough if he's moving on with another woman so soon after she left him—but she wants to know what it is. "What are you…oh my _god_!" she shrieks out, unable to help herself as Myrnin's head lifts and turns to face her.

Rather than his usual brown eyes, the irises are crimson red, but more pressing than that are the fangs protruding from his upper gums, dripping with blood. The blood, Claire presumes, is from the woman's throat, and all Claire can do is stagger backwards until she's leaning against the wooden table.

She doesn't understand; how can _Myrnin_, the lovely, kind-hearted, gentle man she's known for weeks, be _this_…this monster? How can he be a mythical creature she didn't believe existed, someone who snatches lives from others in order to be able to live forever, be the man who's taught her so much and expected nothing in return? He wouldn't hurt her—he would have done that already, if he was going to—so how can this be the same man?

"Claire," Myrnin says very slowly, turning his head back to face her; only then does she realise that she lost sight of his fangs, though the image is burnt into her mind for the rest of her life. "Claire, I'm not going to hurt you." He takes a step towards her, the woman in his arms, but Claire shuffles around the table so that it's between her and him, her stomach pressing into the side of it.

"You're a vampire," she whispers, barely able to get the words out. Myrnin merely nods in confirmation. "Oh my god, I can't believe…oh god, what, _how_?" she cries out, more to herself than to Myrnin, though he takes it upon himself to give her a sort of answer.

"It's a long story," he begins, stopping in his tracks as he realises that Claire doesn't want to go near him. "Claire…I'm sorry. I didn't want you to know…" he trails off as Claire laughs a cold, harsh laugh.

"I came here to tell you that I _love_ you and that I want to _be_ with you; how could you avoid it then?" she snaps, anger coursing through her veins, overriding the fear that threatens to turn her body to ice. "You…oh god…" she trails off this time, her face turning ice cold as she understands something. "It was _you_ who killed the child. It was _you_, just like you're killing that woman there. You drank…oh god…you drank their blood and then you dumped the body for their mother to find. You killed an innocent _child_!"

He doesn't deny it, and that's what destroys Claire completely. He doesn't deny that he hurt the child who has been her cover to come visit Myrnin for all these weeks, and it makes her feel dizzy and light-headed. This is the one place she feels completely safe…and yet now, she doesn't know if she can be safe here or not.

(In her heart, she knows the answer is that she will always be safe here, but her head doesn't understand this logic, what with Myrnin being a vampire.)

"She isn't dead," is all he says as he makes reference to the woman in his arms. "I have…problems, Claire. I'm sorry. I never meant to kill anyone, truly. It was never my intention, and each death haunts me as I sleep; I mean this absolutely—Claire!" Myrnin breaks off suddenly as he notices Claire's expression turning blank.

He sets the woman he was feeding from down on the ground before flashing across the room to catch Claire before she falls. Myrnin can tell that she's unconscious—from the shock of the discovery, he presumes—and the moments she rests in his arms are the most heavenly he has ever experienced thus far on Earth. But rather than continue to hold her close, now she knows what he is, he sets her down gently on the one bed in the laboratory, pushing a piece of hair back from her face as he stares at her.

"I wanted to tell you why I became this," he murmurs, taking a step back. "It will have to wait until you awaken—if you want to listen, that is."

And with that, he moves away, picking up the unconscious woman on the floor along with her possessions, taking her back to where he found her—sans her memory of him, of course.

Now, all he has to do is wait until Claire comes around so that they can discuss—if she will—what he is…and just what she meant when she referred to loving him.

(As he sits next to Claire, Myrnin dares think that perhaps, Amelie was right…perhaps he was right to have a glimmer of hope inside of him.)

_~x~_

Sleep doesn't bring peace to Claire. Perhaps due to the reason she fell unconscious, perhaps due to what news she has to work through, she can't rest peacefully. Though outwardly she seems still, inside, she's a wreck, unable to comprehend what she discovered about the man she loves.

He's not a man; he's someone who could quite easily hurt her, someone who's unnatural and should probably have died decades before she was even born. _But_, the other side of her brain is quick to point out, she's been alone with him in here for weeks, and he's never so much as even hinted that he wants to do anything to her. He's been kind, charming…and Claire realises, in the few moments of rationality sleep brings her, she doesn't care what he is. Myrnin isn't a man in the traditional sense, but that's probably how he knows so much—that's the reason she was _drawn_ to him, in a sense, because of the knowledge time has brought him, along with the wisdom and kindness developed along the way.

She hates everything his kind is: he's a murderer; he's a life destroyer; he doesn't regret how his actions impact others, she thinks…and yet he's still Myrnin. He's still the sensitive, funny man she fell in love with, still the man who's taught her more than she ever dreamed of knowing and is capable of teaching her so much more—but until when? When will she stop learning about science? When he kills her? Or when she dies of old age, her love preserved as he is now?

It's in this moment that Claire realises that she isn't scared of what Myrnin is—well, not really—but rather the more pressing issue: she's scared of the future. There are other issues as well, such as why he became what he is, but more importantly, she's wondering about what will happen if she stays with him.

(It's not an issue of _if_; she already knows that if she wasn't going to stay, she would have ran before fainting. At first she turned her back—and that's not something you do when you're fearful of something.)

Suddenly, Claire's eyes snap open. She's awake.

"Claire." She hears her name spoken softly, and turns her head to see him sitting there by her side. There's nothing but fear in his eyes, and that makes Claire want to laugh, because surely it should be the other way around; she should be scared of him.

"I…can I have some water?" she asks quietly, realising that her throat feels bone dry. How long she's been unconscious she doesn't know, but the darkness in the laboratory gives her the impression that it's at least early evening—later than she's ever been here before.

Myrnin's expression changes slightly, as though he's questioning why she's asking for water rather than running away or demanding questions, but he nods slowly before disappearing. One minute he's there, the next he's gone; it seems to Claire that now she knows what he is, now she has to make a decision, he doesn't want to leave her with the false impression that he's a normal human being.

"Here you go," he says quietly, suddenly appearing at Claire's side with a beaker of water in one hand. "Would you like to move to the chaise lounge in the corner, if you are not…comfortable with your current seat?" he questions, and Claire realises, for the first time, that she's lying on a bed. She presumes that it's his bed—as there would be no reason for him to have two—but it doesn't make her feel uncomfortable, as lying in Shane's bed for the first time did. But for the type of conversation they're going to have, she decides that perhaps the bed isn't the correct location.

"I think that to have a conversation, it would be the best idea to move," Claire replies quietly, after taking a sip of water from the beaker Myrnin handed her. "I'm fine, honestly," she adds as Myrnin moves to assist her sliding from the bed.

A look of hurt flashes across his face, so fast that Claire barely has chance to see it, and it sends stabbing pains through her chest. She doesn't want to hurt him, not when she loves him so dearly, but sometimes it may be unavoidable.

Within minutes, they're seated on the chaise lounge, merely two feet between them, and if she needs any more confirmation that she wants to be with him, this is it. She doesn't feel fear that he's a vampire, not really, but there is one thing—

"Where's the woman?" she asks quickly, her eyes darting around the room as though he's left the body somewhere for her to find. "Did you…?" she trails off, unable to finish her sentence, though she maintains eye contact with Myrnin. She needs to know if he's telling the truth.

"I took her from here and returned her to the public house in which I found her, with no recollection of our meeting," is Myrnin's response, which Claire believes to be true. "She isn't hurt…I never became this to hurt people, Claire…I abhor killing, despise myself a little more for every life I have ever taken."

Claire frowns. "But don't you need to kill people to…stay alive?" she wants to know more about the mechanics of this vampire-thing before she gets onto her pressing questions, but she can feel herself growing impatient at the delay in knowledge.

Myrnin shakes his head, a slight smile upon his lips. "At first, it is hard to avoid it—the need to feed is too strong—but with age comes control, control enough to take only what you need, only when you need it." A slight laugh escapes his lips, and Claire feels her expression turning slightly quizzical. "I never expected to ever have this conversation with anyone, least alone you, my little Claire."

His responses aren't enough for Claire; she has so, so many more questions for him, but she can't hold in her greatest issue any longer. "_Why_ did you become this?" she asks, and the smile upon Myrnin's face fades away into careful neutrality.

"As a child, I became an apprentice to a wizard who was a practised alchemist—he taught me the basics of what I now know—who was…this. He showed me the virtues of turning; the limitless time, the ability to adapt ideas with new discoveries, to understand why the world is as it is. He made me only see the positives to this life, never mentioned the things which interest most when they turn, and it is for that reason I became a vampire." Myrnin blinks slowly and moves the hair from his face, a suddenly despondent expression upon it. "I became this because I wanted to learn forever, Claire, to never have to cease learning and developing my ideas. I never wanted _these_, never wanted this to happen…never wanted to have people fear what I am." Tears begin to drip down his cheeks, and Claire gasps in a mixture of shock and horror as the fangs she saw earlier drop down from his gums as he speaks, and his eyes flash into a reddish colour.

Myrnin's entire frame begins to shake with the tears shed from his eyes, and every part of Claire aches; she doesn't want him to be in pain, to suffer because of what he is.

(She understands his reasons…and would even make the same decision as him.)

"It's alright," she says hesitantly, not sure whether he wants her to approach him. "Myrnin…I still…I need you, no matter what you are. Please don't cry; it only makes me sad, too," she continues, reaching out slowly to place one hand gingerly upon his shoulder.

Before she knows what's happening, Myrnin's moved and his arms are wrapping around her, pulling their bodies close together. "You have no idea what your words mean to me," he murmurs in her ear, and Claire would be lying if she said she wasn't relieved to feel his fangs are no longer present. "But…I can't. My dear, I cannot take you from the human world to be with _me_, someone who doesn't deserve you, when there is someone human you can be happy—to an extent—with. I cannot grow old with you; I cannot die with you…and I don't want you to be alone in the next world."

His words crush Claire, because that was exactly what she was hoping he _wouldn't_ say; she was hoping he would have a suggestion that could override the problem—other than the obvious, or what is obvious to Claire at least. "I can't be without you, Myrnin; these two weeks nearly tore me apart. I can't go back to him, I _can't_," she cries out.

For a moment, she realises how strange this situation is; within a matter of hours, she's gone from discovering he's a vampire and being disgusted, to begging to stay with him now that he's telling her it isn't the best idea.

"Hush, my Claire," Myrnin whispers, his lips pressing against her ear; he's stopped crying, Claire can tell. "I at least think you ought to _try_ going back to him, even though I don't particularly like the sound of him. Please, Claire, try to live a life without me. You should know that whilst I swear I would never deliberately hurt you…there would always be a chance. At least with Shane, you would never fear living to see another dawn."

Somehow, Claire struggles in Myrnin's arms to turn to face him—she thinks he gives her some help, but she ignores that—and begins to pound her fist against his chest, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"_No_!" she screams, choking on a sob caught in her throat. "You can't make me go back, can't make me go back to someone I don't love just because you could hurt me! If I tell Shane how I love someone else, how I adore science more than I can tolerate him, he'll hurt me then—I can guarantee it." Claire stops moving her fist and leaves it on Myrnin's chest, confirming what she thought before; he has no beating heart. "Please tell me you love me."

Myrnin's unreadable expression softens into something she can understand—love—and he moves to press his lips to her forehead softly. "I love you," he says against her skin, before moving his head back once more. "That's why I'm telling you to leave now. Leave because you deserve to have a life free from fear and pain, from running and regret. I can give you nothing but danger—and that isn't a way to live life."

Claire shakes her head again, more and more vigorously, and she throws herself into his chest; he doesn't move an inch. "Can…I can't do that," she whispers. "But what if…what if I go back for a little while, and see if I can handle it? And if I can't, you'll still be here for me to come back to."

"Yes," he replies, far too quickly, and somewhere deep down inside, Claire knows that it's a lie. "Let's make that agreement; I'll be here for you to come back to if you can't manage to stay there…please know that I'm only doing this _because_ I love you; I want you to live a life worthy of you, to experience everything a woman ought to—children, happiness, old age, a life of security. I don't want you to turn out…regretting what choice you make."

Slowly, Claire wipes the tears from her eyes and looks up at Myrnin, finding herself laughing slightly. "You know that I'm doing this because I love you and I respect what your opinion is," she whispers, lifting a hand to run it through Myrnin's bouncy hair. "And no matter what happens, I will love you more than anyone else in this world—forever, or however long of that I get to experience."

Before she can move away, he's kissing her, and she's kissing him back, and everything's exactly how she wanted it to be; she's happy beyond belief, in the arms of the man she loves…and then it's suddenly ripped away from her. His lips are gone from hers, his arms are no longer wrapped around her; he's let her go.

He's letting her walk away.

Somehow, Claire staggers to an upright position, her eyes never leaving Myrnin's as she does so. She walks slowly towards the door, her eyes locked on his frame when she no longer can make out his eyes from the rest of his face, and when she's at the door and he has been absorbed by the dark shadows, she still tries to imagine that she can see him.

This isn't the last time that she'll see him…she hopes.

As she walks away down the cobbled street, she has to suppress the tears which threaten to consume her, and she attempts to regain her composure for the questions Shane will have for her when she finally makes it home.

(She's scared because she doesn't believe that Myrnin will still even be there _tomorrow _let alone in the future.)

_~x~_

When she makes it into the house, it's in darkness; the only hint of light, save for that from the moon, is peeking out from under the door to Shane's study, the room she never goes in.

"Come in, Claire," he shouts as she attempts to pass it silently, and Claire knows from just the tone of his voice that this isn't going to be good. She wants to run out from the house now and return to Myrnin, telling him it was impossible to try, but that would be lying; she hasn't given Shane a chance yet.

Tentatively, Claire pushes the door open and stands in the doorway, her hair hanging down from its bun in straggles, her dress damp from the cold air outside. She looks a mess whereas Shane is his usual, pristine self, dressed in a suit even though it must be bedtime now.

"Where have you been?"

Shane's voice is now quiet and deadly, an undertone to it that sounds sinister, and Claire flinches backwards.

"I…I…"

"Don't tell me another lie," he continues, as though she hadn't even attempted to speak. "I know that you haven't been helping the Humphries woman; I sent Jasper down there earlier and she said that you come in every now and then to bring food, and then you leave almost immediately. You have been lying to me, Claire…and I dislike liars."

Claire swallows slightly as she takes steps into the study, deciding it's not the best idea to linger in the doorway; the servants could hear, and that isn't something she particularly wants to happen.

Moving closer, however, causes her face to drain of blood and makes her feel as though her heart's stopped as she looks at what's on the table.

The notes she made with Myrnin.

"I…I'm sorry," she whispers, looking at the desk and the stacks of paper all covered in her handwriting rather than Shane. "I didn't mean to hurt you or break your trust, but…but I need science. It's hard to explain; perhaps I've been born in the wrong era, as it's frowned on for my gender to have an interest in it, but I love it…and if I have it, there's nothing I won't do with you." The words spill out, and Claire realises that this is (perhaps) a compromise Myrnin considered before, his brain having reached it faster than hers: if she has science, she can be with Shane, for science is what brought Myrnin and herself together, so it should be enough to keep her with Shane. "If…if you let me learn about science and the things I've adored since childhood, there is literally nothing I will not do for you, Shane."

She lifts her eyes slowly to lock in on Shane's, and soon wishes she hadn't. There's a burning rage in his eyes that she hasn't seen before, and Claire finds herself frozen to the spot, petrified of the man she calls her husband.

"You filthy whore," he snarls at her, and Claire worries for a second that he knows about Myrnin—but he can't. He can't know of her feelings for the vampire Myrnin, at least, only that she's been learning from someone else. "I cannot believe that you, someone born into a high family, would be such a harlot and go into a man's home alone—yes, I have spoken to someone who confirms you have visited the man at the end of the street—and emerge with science knowledge. How did you pay him—sexually? Did you give him what ought to be mine and mine alone?"

As he speaks, Shane moves across the room, closing the gap between him and Claire, and his hand reaches out to slap her cheek, hard. Claire gasps in pain and shock, her eye watering immediately as the sting courses through her body; she never thought that Shane would hurt her.

"He wanted nothing—not like you," she spits at him, anger rising through her. Myrnin told her that she would be safe here, safer than with him, but he was wrong; he would never hurt her for learning, not like Shane. "He taught me because he wanted someone else to know about science…he didn't want sex!"

Shane growls slightly, a feral noise that makes Claire's mind immediately think to vampire and therefore Myrnin, and for this reason, she isn't prepared when Shane shoves her roughly against the wall, pressing his body against hers.

"He didn't want sex—or you managed to avoid it—or perhaps you're lying to me now as well; you've gotten good at that, haven't you, Claire?" he growls in her ear, and Claire realises just what he means to do. "I think you've liked the feel of him against your skin, and that's why you won't touch me anymore…so let's see just what you make of this, then."

"No!" Claire screams as his hands move to the corset at the back of her dress, attempting to loosen it off so he can rip it off of her body. "You can't do this, you _can't_!" she continues, fighting to get away from Shane as hard as she can—but nothing seems to work.

"You've enjoyed him for so long, so now it's my turn to experience what tricks he's taught you in the bedroom," Shane continues, now ripping at Claire's dress to take it off. One sleeve is ripped clean off, and part of the bodice hangs open, exposing her stomach to the cold air in the room, but Claire doesn't stop fighting. "I'm going to enjoy this more than the first time—you know why."

Claire almost gives up; she squeezes her eyes shut and her body stops attempting to get away as Shane stops ripping her dress and moves his hands to undo his trousers. It would be easier to let him do this; he would forgive her eventually, and at least it could mean she would have the child he so desperately wants…even though it would be sacrificing everything she's ever believed in.

So when Shane's hands are at his waist, she lifts her left knee and gets him inbetween his legs, causing him to groan in pain and stumble backwards.

"I never loved you," Claire snarls as she runs towards the door. "I love him—Myrnin—though I've never been with him because of _you_; I didn't want to hurt you like that. But he…he's a proper man; he would never do what you just tried to do to me because he respects me. That's something you don't understand. Goodbye, Shane. I'll never see you again, and I'm happy about that."

Before he even manages to stand straight upright, she's gone, running from the room and then the house as fast as she can, desperate to get to Myrnin and to rest in his arms, in order to hope that everything can, perhaps, work out the way she wants in the end.

_~x~_

When she arrives, the laboratory is in darkness, with not even a candle lit to illuminate the place slightly. She supposes that the slight light coming through the open door is enough for his eyes—she never asked about what's different as a vampire, but she thinks that she has enough time to ask him these questions now—but it isn't for her, and as she walks down the stairs into the room, she falls.

"Ow!" she cries out, her ankle twisting and causing her to crash to the ground heavily. She's landed on her ankle, too, and she doesn't feel as though she can get up. "Myrnin?"

She hears movement and there's a sound of a match lighting and a flicker of light before the wick of a candle catches fire, creating a glow bright enough for Claire to see the face of the man she wants…and the signs of someone moving.

Everything on the table has gone, perhaps into one of the boxes that are on the floor next to her, and betrayal spreads through her body. "You're leaving." She says it as a statement, fighting to keep the tears back as Myrnin moves towards her.

He bends over and lifts her with one hand into his arm, before setting her down carefully upon the floor; he looks tired to Claire, and sad—sad that she's back.

"You know why I have to leave—I can't be here if you're going to be with him; it wouldn't be fair on you—what is that on your face?" Myrnin's tone changes as he notices Claire's cheek, suddenly becoming urgent and concerned.

As coolly as possible, Claire shrugs, though the movement causes her to need to hold onto Myrnin for support; her ankle still doesn't seem to be strong enough to support her. "He found my notes and slapped me…before he tried to…he tried to…oh…!" she can't help but burst into tears as she tries to explain what happened in those final moments in the study, but by the way that Myrnin's gaze turns thunderous as he looks at her ripped dress, Claire knows he understands her unspoken message.

"I was wrong," he whispers quietly as he pulls her into his arms. "I'm a monster, but I would never do _that_ to you, not for loving something. I am so, so sorry, Claire, for sending you back; you have to believe that I thought it was in your best interests to be with a human and live life, rather than with me." As he lifts all of her weight into his arms, Claire can feel the steady stream of tears cascade from his eyes down her back, dampening the heavy material of her dress. He's crying, too.

"You're not a monster," she whispers, and from the stiffness of his back, she can tell that she's surprised him. "I can tell you don't want to kill or hurt; you just want to love and to learn…and that isn't what a monster does. Yes, you've hurt and killed before, and you could kill again, but you regret it—and that's what marks you out as being someone worthy of love, of living life with happiness to guide you to your next decision. That isn't what makes you someone who feels they should hide away and never be happy."

Claire leans backwards as far as Myrnin's arms will allow her, so that she can see his face. "I love you," she says. "And I want to be with you—forever." She knows the connotations of this word, knows what it means to Myrnin, and she doesn't care.

She knows nothing about the process, knows nothing about what she'll be like if this happens; all she knows is that she will have eternity to be with Myrnin and to learn from him—and with him.

Myrnin shakes his head. "I'm not taking your humanity from you; you may change your mind. I will be with you, but I can't…I can't do that to you."

Without any planning whatsoever, Claire leans forwards and presses her lips to Myrnin's, just as she did weeks ago—but this time, she knows that this is what she wants, and there's nothing to stop her doing it. Myrnin kisses her back, pulling her body as close to his as possible, and for the first time, Claire feels completely able to relax; she finally has the chance to be happy.

"I'm never going to want anything more than science and you," she whispers against his chest as soon as they break apart from one another. "So please, Myrnin; if you want to make me happy, this is the way."

"You want to learn forever," he states. "As do I. And who am I to stop you living forever to do this?"

His lips press against her neck before his fangs burst through her skin, and Claire knows that if she regretted her decision, this would be the moment, as the excruciating pain of losing her life begins.

But she regrets nothing—because now, she has the chance to be with Myrnin forever.

* * *

I'd really appreciate it if you review if you've read this, and if anyone has any requests for me to write in the future, I'll definitely consider them!


End file.
